Moving On
by FlamingDoritos
Summary: Over the years, Soren had changed. Post-FE10, Soren and Stefan, blah blah blah. You all know the drill.


A/N: I really need to stop pumping out complete garbage and write Yaoi Emblem. But I'm really, really not in the mood. OH WELL. HAVE SOME MORE CRAP, GUYS.

KIM I BLAME YOU FOR THIS. EVEN THOUGH YOU HARDLY HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT.

* * *

Stefan couldn't move at first. All he could do was stare, dumbfounded, at the man in front of him. He had aged well. Far gone were the days when he had looked perpetually like a teenager. His face had thinned, he had grown. His hair was still the same as ever, bangs framing his face and the rest tied back, trailing to the small of his back. He had always kept it that way. His dark robes had been traded for a light green.

And the mark still shone on his forehead, a twist of blood red that had once marked him as an outcast. They had spent hours, days comparing marks, comparing scars, comparing their lives.

Finally Stefan found words.

"You came."

A gentle smile. "You doubted me?"

And to see him smiling like that, as though he were truly happy, brought Stefan more joy than he could have described. The swordsman got to his feet and opened his arms slowly. The dark-haired man's smile grew and for a moment he shut his eyes, raising his face to the heavens. Whispering his thanks, perhaps. Then he took several long strides and fell into Stefan's arms, squeezing hard. Stefan chuckled and buried his nose in the other's hair, inhaling deeply. A scent he had never forgotten.

"Soren." The sage looked up and Stefan grinned. "Fifty-two years and you can't be bothered to send a letter?"

"I've been busy." His face fell slightly. "I came as soon as I could."

It didn't need to be said. Stefan squeezed him gently. "I'm sorry. Was…?"

"In his sleep." Soren smiled. "I woke up one morning and he was gone, that's all. It happens." He paused for a moment. "How is Mordecai?"

Stefan smiled. "A raid. A lot of mages. You know how it is." It still hurt to remember, still hurt to see the mating scar on his neck. "He was hurt and we couldn't heal him. It happens."

"I'm sorry."

The silence was longer this time. Stefan could feel Soren's heart pounding against his, the other man's hands against his back, absently playing with the stray ends of his hair. He relaxed his breathing and pulled away just enough.

"So, then. What would you like to do? I can show you the village or get you a place to sleep, or if you're hungry we could head to the market, or if you need to bathe—"

"Stefan." Soren smiled. "Take me somewhere. Somewhere for us."

Stefan couldn't help raising an eyebrow and grinning. Soren swatted him. That, at least, hadn't changed.

"I want a cup of tea and to talk. Uninterrupted."

"As you wish."

())CRAYOLA))

As soon as they were alone, Soren jumped on him, pushing his hair aside and examining his Brand. Stefan had let them fall back against the sand. He'd slid Soren's outer robes off wordlessly. Already he could see new scars on the sage's neck. When he'd raised an eyebrow Soren had laughed again.

"Ike," was his explanation, and Stefan had laughed too.

They spent the rest of the day that way. Examining brands and comparing scars, new and old. Sharing a half-century's worth of stories. Just like old times, during the war. At sundown, Stefan had rolled onto his stomach and grinned.

"You've changed," he commented. "You laugh. You smile. You…I'm not sure. You're more open, I suppose. It's like some great burden has been lifted from your heart."

Soren shrugged. "I spent fifty years not being judged because of my mark. North, past Hatari…nobody cares. There are laguz and beorc. You see so many Branded children running about the streets. The laguz treat them as though nothing is different. Exactly as children should be treated." He rolled onto his stomach as well and looked at Stefan. "When Ike and I arrived in the first village, we were greeted. And I was worried that someone would realize what I was and force us to leave." Then he smiled. "And do you know what happened?"

"Nothing?"

Soren shook his head. "We were greeted by a little Branded girl. She saw my mark and she gave me this smile, like it was the greatest thing in the world. And her mark. It was on one of her arms, where she could have kept it hidden. But her sleeves were short anyways. I almost told her to cover it up."

"You held your tongue? A miracle."

Soren lazily swatted him. "I nearly said something. But her parents came out of their house. A wolf laguz and a beorc woman. Happy as can be, offering to show us the inn and where we could find food, etcetera. And I was completely speechless. To see this girl and her parents living together. No scars on any of them, no injuries whatsoever."

Stefan whistled. "So the Branded are accepted, then."

It was Soren's turn to raise an eyebrow. "What about Grann? You're recognized as a country now."

"Just because we are recognized does not mean we are accepted." Stefan sighed. "It will be a long time before people let go of all this nonsense."

"You're working hard. That will at least help, if nothing else."

"Thank you." The sky was dark now and Stefan sighed. "We should go back. It gets cold at night."

Soren nodded and Stefan stood, helping the sage to his feet. They gathered their belongings and stood next to each other for a moment. Then Stefan reached out and pulled the sage against him.

"I'm very glad you're here with me."

())CRAYOLA))

They fell asleep together one night. He would have liked to say it had been unintentional but the sandstorm outside had prevented Soren from leaving the building Stefan lived in. There was no choice in the matter, really. Although Soren _had_ almost immediately called claim to the floor, stating that he didn't need a bed and that it was only for one night.

"Let me know when you get tired and I'll shut up, then," he'd said. Soren had laughed and swatted him gently.

But they had fallen into comfortable silence, sitting side-by-side, and as the minutes slipped past Soren was leaning on him more and more. He had made as though to sit up, to move to the floor, but Stefan lay back, dragging the sage with him.

"There's more than enough room for you," he breathed. "I won't touch you."

"You've no choice."

"You know what I mean."

They had curled up back-to-back and fallen asleep.

())CRAYOLA))

Morning came and with it came sand. Sand _everywhere_. On his desk and the floor and on their blankets, in his hair and eyes and mouth. Soren was still next to him, still asleep. Stefan chuckled and brushed the grains from the sage's cheeks, gently blew the sand from the corners of his eyes. He leaned down and kissed Soren's Brand and at that moment the sage's eyes shot open.

Stefan didn't need to be told. Wordlessly he curled around Soren, breathing that it was alright. Soren sank into his embrace. His breathing wasn't choked, he wasn't sobbing. He simply wrapped his arms around the swordsman and let himself be held until the traces of his nightmare were gone.

"Thank you," he whispered. The words hardly came out but Stefan heard them anyways.

"Always," he replied.

"I miss him so much, sometimes."

"I know."

"But…I also feel guilty for not missing him more than I do."

"I know."

Silence for a moment. Then Soren pulled away just long enough to adjust his position. Then he was pulling Stefan in, closer than they had ever held each other before, legs entangled, Brands pressed together, breath mingling. Stefan's heart was pounding and he was sure Soren could feel it. The sage smiled.

"Your heart is beating so fast," he murmured. "Why?"

Stefan nearly rolled his eyes; Soren had always been too good at reading people and this was a question that hadn't really needed to have been asked. And that the sage was grinning left no question that he knew the answer. But Stefan tilted his head just slightly, just enough so they would fit together flawlessly.

"You know why," Stefan replied, and kissed him.

Soren _melted_. Or he would have, if they had been standing. His lips parted and he let out a breathy sigh shortly before Stefan delved in, tasting him. It was languid, gentle. Soren's fingers found his hair and Stefan let out a low groan. The sage pushed back, their tongues slipping together briefly before Stefan gave in, letting the sage explore him deeply.

Soren hardly flinched when they were interrupted. He pulled away slowly, licking his lips, and Stefan knew immediately that whoever it was could wait for another mark or two. He opened his mouth to yell at them, to tell them to come back later, but Soren beat him to it, shouting that he was finally in bed with Stefan (not entirely untrue, Stefan thought to himself) and to maybe come back sometime in the afternoon.

A stammered apology came, and then hurried footsteps, and then Stefan burst out laughing, sinking against Soren.

"So far from the introverted mage I met all those years ago," he commented, pressing his lips to Soren's neck.

"A half-century will do that to a man," Soren replied, grinning. "You've changed too, you know."

"I am still the—what was it you called me?—the eccentric pedophile from the desert," Stefan chuckled.

"I was eighteen and you came on rather strongly."

Stefan opened his mouth to reply but Soren kissed him again. And again, and again, until he was breathless. When the sage pulled away, he was smirking.

"I'm sorry, were you going to say something?"

"Bastard," Stefan growled, and kissed him again.

())CRAYOLA))

"I still feel like I should miss him more."

Stefan blinked slowly. Gently he nuzzled into Soren's neck, squeezing the sage tightly. Soren's skin was still flushed, his hair still dishevelled. Mere minutes had passed. Minutes since he had come with a shuddering gasp, Stefan's name on his lips.

"Do you regret this?"

And Soren smiled and kissed his brow gently. "No."

"Then why worry?"

"I was married to him for fifty-six years." Soren made as though to swat him and thought better of it. "You get a bit attached after so long."

"So you're worried that you're somehow being unfaithful?" Stefan nearly scoffed but he realized that he had had the same worry. He still felt it, the ache of losing Mordecai even after two long years. He voiced this and Soren nodded.

"Exactly. Part of me still loves him. Just like part of you still loves Mordecai. And I feel as though somehow this is wrong. Moving on so quickly."

Stefan kissed his brow. "I know."

He curled around Soren again. The sage pulled him close, nuzzled against his neck, kissed him there. After a moment he spoke again.

"You know that I love you."

Stefan grinned. "I do. And you know I love you back."

"Mm."

Within minutes they were asleep.


End file.
